Life at the Top
by drawingtoaclose
Summary: Lindsay and Kim return from the road and have to deal with the consequences and their changed feelings towards their friends. All the Freaks wrestle with senior year and the future. Sam and the Geeks are sophomores. Will life be any easier?
1. Chapter 1

**_notes from the drawing table: __it has been a trying two months for me. Hope the worst of it is over. _**

**_First I'd like to thank Mrseddievedder for keeping F&G alive here on FF, for our email chats and for inspiring me to shape my notes into a story. THANKS MRSEV! _**

**_I began this over a year ago when I was beyond obsessed with this show. Subsequent viewings have not diminished my love or it's awesomeness. I recently attended the PaleyFest Q&A with Judd/Paul and almost all of the actors. It was fun and for the autograph seekers . . . amazing. Most of the actors stayed for almost an hour signing and chatting. They were cordial, friendly and answered tons of questions. I know all of their fans were thrilled at the generosity . . . including me. Martin Starr was nice enough to chat and sign my drawing that is now my profile pic. Many clips are available online, youtube etc. _**

**_I have lots of chapters and notes that I am determined to bash into a coherent narrative. I know that there isn't a big fanbase for F&G fiction since it is off the air (I believe repeats are showing on IFC at times) but this is for me an for the few who are out there. This chapter was originally a flashback in chapter ii or iii but it took on a life of its own. My original chapter i just didn't work as a good lead in so I had to expand this. _**

**_As I always say, all reviews, opinions etc are welcome. Spread the word about F&G and let's see if we can get this site to come alive with more stories starring Lindsay, Sam and all the others! DTac._**

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_Life at the Top_

1. Road trips and safety tips

Lindsay Weir couldn't believe how much fun she was having – that is, when she wasn't freaking out about what she was _doing_ instead of what she was _supposed_ to be doing. It was exciting, scary and a bit overwhelming. Never before had she done anything so spontaneous, so irrational and so against-the-grain of her ordinary straight-laced life. The seventeen-year old was as far away from the dullness of her usual small town summer routine as she could imagine. It was hard to believe that a borrowed record album, a chance meeting in the school lunchroom and an unwanted invitation led to this moment and to this place. More astoundingly, it shocked her that _she_ was the one who convinced Kim to come along. _"Kim, you have to come with us! We have to do this! Let's get the hell out of this town for a while"!_

Accompanying their new 'Deadhead' friends Laurie and Victor, she and Kim Kelly had driven all the way from _boring_ Chippewa Michigan to Texas, then back north through Oklahoma, Missouri, Minnesota and now to Wisconsin, to follow the Grateful Dead on this leg of their 1981 summer tour. Tonight would be their seventh Dead show in ten days – with two more left over a thousand miles away in Colorado – which Lindsay was considering passing on so she could catch a bus back to Michigan. The formerly afraid-to-even-bend-the-rules-let-alone-break-them-this-outrageously teen, figured she had little hope of getting away with this hair-brained scheme as it is. Once the University of Michigan contacted her parents and informed them that their daughter hadn't shown up for the two-week long Academic Summit – if they hadn't already – Lindsay guessed she was going to be in the biggest trouble of her young life. Having already lied once, the soon-to-be high school senior didn't have it in her to call her parents again and make up new, more elaborate story to cover another entire week of not coming home. It would be too much. Why make what was going to be a very bad situation even worse? When her conservative and overly-dramatic father found out she had ditched the Academic Summit in the first place – let alone ditched it for two weeks of skipping about the country to watch a band like the Grateful Dead – the proverbial shit was gonna hit the fan.

Since she began hanging out with the _'Freaks'_ – Kim, Daniel, Ken and Nick – at the beginning of her junior year, Lindsay had discovered new courage to lie to her parents, teachers and friends. The former mathlete and goody-two-shoes had regularly found herself in situations where bending the truth and outright lying seemed like a good idea and her only option. Maybe it was peer pressure, maybe it was as a result of her loss of faith or maybe Lindsay had it in her all along; and although lying had gotten her in to a lot of trouble in the past year, it was something that was starting to come naturally to the formerly honest seventeen year-old.

Faking excitement like she actually would have cared about the Academic Summit, (the more she thought about it, the more it sounded like 'death'), Lindsay had called home the previous afternoon while in Minnesota to tell the _little-white-lie_ that would explain her not arriving back in Chippewa on Friday night like she was expected. Kim, a confident liar, kept telling her: _"If you believe it Lindsay, it isn't a lie."_ Lindsay had practiced the story over and over again until she was sure it sounded truthful.

"Mom, I ranked in the _top_ _ten_ _percent_ of the whole group! They wanted me to ask you guys if I could stay here at the college for one more day with some of the others. There's going to be a final discussion group, a detailed tour of the campus and then there's going to be sort of a party – hosted by the staff of the college, of course. They are going to give us advice on filling out college applications and stuff like that. Some professors are going to be there and maybe even the _Dean_."

Lindsay had rattled off the well-practiced story so quickly, she was sure her parents would suspect something fishy. All of the rehearsal in the mirror didn't matter because Harold and Jean Weir were so proud that their daughter was considered exceptional in a group of kids that were already viewed as the best of the best, they bought it hook, line and sinker and consented immediately. It was difficult to keep from laughing with Kim standing next to her at the payphone sticking her tongue out and making obnoxious faces. It was even more difficult fending off questions from her excited mother, questions about the Academic Summit that Lindsay had no answers for. Luckily the voice came on to say the time was running out on her dime so claiming to have no more change, Lindsay hung up the phone before her parents could drill her further.

Kim, who dreaded going back to boring Chippewa, her dysfunctional family and even Daniel, had already decided that she was going to continue on to the shows in Colorado. Doubting that her mother cared or even noticed that her teenaged daughter was nowhere to be seen for three weeks in the middle of summer, Kim wasn't sure what to expect when she got back and didn't really care. She decided that she would just avoid her mother, pop in now and again and pretend she'd been at friend's houses. On-the-other-hand, Daniel was someone she knew she had to deal with face-to-face. He'd been acting differently the last few weeks of school, not so _'Daniel'_. Her on-again-off-again boyfriend had been talking about his future and almost sounded – _positive _and_ determined_. It had her curious. Since she knew he was working in Flint at some auto parts distributor, a job Ken, or more likely Ken's father, had helped him get, she hoped he was too preoccupied with that and his own issues at home to be overly aware of her continuous absence from Chippewa. One thing she knew for sure, her mother hated Daniel so there was little chance of him showing up at their house to look for her very often.

/\\\/\\\

The following morning, Lindsay leaned back in the lawn chair and took in the scene. They had set up shop in a campground at a place called Whitewater Lake near East Troy Wisconsin. It was jam-packed with Deadheads getting ready for tonight's event at the nearby outdoor Alpine Valley Music Theater. After watching the last couple of shows at indoor arenas, Lindsay was looking forward to seeing the band outside under the stars – the way she imagined the Dead were meant to be experienced. Since she'd done most of the driving last night, Kim was in the Microbus trying to catch up on some sleep while Victor and Laurie were wandering around trying to find tickets, a task they seemed to accomplish with ease at each stop.

The night before had been a great show - probably the best one they'd seen according to her experienced and recently acquired Deadhead friends. For the entire two-week tour, Lindsay had listened to endless talk about set lists, how one song 'melted seamlessly' into the next and about 'transcendent' guitar solos, but none of that mattered to her. The newly indoctrinated into the whole Deadhead scene teen was just happy listen and dance along to the music. Although she didn't have much experience with big time rock concerts, it surprised her how Grateful Dead shows felt so informal. They'd talk to the audience about what was going on stage and what was happening (or not happening) with the equipment. They couldn't get the keyboards working the previous night in Minnesota so Bob Weir was having a great time making light of it. Everything was 'so weird' and a 'trip' to Jerry Garcia. Lindsay decided that all rock concerts should be like those of the Grateful Dead. The music itself was beautiful and inspiring. Along with the song 'Box of Rain', which disappointingly for the novice Deadhead, the band hadn't played at any of the shows she'd witnessed, 'Scarlet Begonias' had become her favorite, so she hoped to hear it tonight. While she did get bored with the extended drum thing or when the jamming went on too long, it was never a big deal. There was always plenty going on in the venue to keep her interested – even if it was just the inspired dancing in the crowd.

It wasn't even noon yet but it was already getting very hot. Lindsay had joined a mix of young and old, new and experienced fans for some preshow fun around one of the barbecue pits at the campground. There was guitar playing, singing, dancing, some sneaky and some very brazen pot smoking, (and other drug taking Lindsay imagined) and just a lot of happy folks, free of societies' chains, hanging out and having fun. While she did recognize some in the gathering from other stops on the tour, most she'd never seen before. Now they were sitting around talking and laughing like old friends. It was the most amazing community of people the sheltered Michigan teenager could ever imagine meeting. Everyone was friendly and generous, willing to share food and drink, laughs, opinions on books and music, great stories of life on the road following the Grateful Dead - and drugs. Especially drugs. Something Lindsay was mostly trying to avoid. Victor and Laurie got stoned before every show but they never pressured her to join in. Kim was happy to partake. Right now Lindsay was content with her donut and slightly warm bottle of Faygo cola, which she kept in her possession at all times. The Deadheads meant well but not everyone wanted to be constantly high or have everything that they ate or drank laced with some sort of drugs – especially not Lindsay Weir. Laurie had warned her – most Deadheads were _'cool'_, but occasionally there were a few in the crowd who got a thrill out of spiking unattended drinks with acid.

Lindsay _had_ nervously agreed to try 'pot' brownies at the show in Oklahoma and actually smoked pot right before and after the show in St. Louis, and while those experiences weren't awful like when she smoked Nick's pot, she preferred to stay straight. Maybe in the right situation, like while experiencing an amazing Grateful Dead show, pot was ok, she'd decided. "_Dropping'_ acid or eating mushrooms was definitely a road she had no intention of traveling, whether it was by choice or by accident. Victor had pointed out the fans that were obviously _'tripping'_ on psychedelic drugs and some seemed so whacked out or so completely out of control, it scared Lindsay to death. Listening to the music and being free was more important. Free of school, free of parents and free of rules! Quite a few Deadheads she'd met didn't take drugs and if she lost track of her three friends, she looked to hang with them at the pre and post-concert gatherings. Yellow balloons in and around the venue she'd learned, indicated the location of at least some Deadheads who didn't get high at the shows.

From the first moment they left Ann Arbor, when Victor cranked up "Going Mobile" by The Who on the eight-track, the trip itself had been nothing but fun and relatively uneventful. Some hilarious misreading of the road map lead to a wrong turn or two but that was the extent of the drama. Three weeks cooped up in a VW Microbus could have been a nightmare, but the four of them were getting along so well. The perpetually laid back and non-judgmental Laurie and Victor and the newly mellow Kim had made it a pleasure. Lindsay had actually grown a bit weary of life 'on the road' and the endless stretches of highway between cities and missed home, her parents and even her geeky little brother Sam. What she missed most was sleeping in her own bed, but this was a once in a lifetime experience. They were having so much fun before, after and at the shows, she hardly wondered what Nick _(and_ _Sara)_ and the rest of the group were up to.

Kim's behavior on this crazy adventure had been an eye-opener, too. Lindsay had anticipated that out from under the thumb of authority, her friend of less-than-a-year would turn in to an out of control wild woman but just the opposite happened. No question the often loud and rowdy blonde was happy to smoke pot with the others and drink a few beers, but away from the negative aura of her bossy mother and psycho step dad and finally out of Chippewa for a time, Kim was surprisingly mellow. Unusually relaxed since Lindsay joined up with her and the others in Ann Arbor, Kim seemed in her element on this road trip and had seemed to enjoy meeting and mingling with all the new people they encountered. Nobody knew her or her bad girl image so she had nothing to live down and nothing to prove. Everyone was on this journey to have a good time and having a good time was something Kim Kelly could definitely get down with. Lindsay had even found her friend reading a copy of Jack Kerouac's On the Road a few hours before the show in Oklahoma instead of partying. It was a book that Kim barely opened, and hated, when they were required to read it in English this past year. Maybe this amazing journey they had undertaken would have a positive or even life changing effect on her cantankerous and touchy 'freak', friend.

For the most part, Lindsay was feeling on top of the world. It was too bad that she couldn't shake the feeling that when she finally did return to Chippewa, she was going to regret all of this because she was certain that her parents were going to ground her for the rest of her life. The inside of her house, the school bus and McKinley High School were the only places she was likely to see until after she graduated. That feeling of dread was especially strong today because they were just outside of Milwaukee Wisconsin, the nearest she'd been to her hometown since they'd left. It still surprised her that her Father hadn't mobilized a manhunt to track her down. "_Mom and Dad must have heard from U of M that I was missing_," she kept thinking, terrified of the consequences.

"Hey . . . _Lindsay"!_

Lindsay turned to the voice and smiled as she recognized a guy she'd met before the show in Austin and then a few days ago in St Louis – Dave. He was going to be senior too and was _'touring'_ with his slightly odd, year-younger sister, Heidi. They were from Kentwood, a town outside of Grand Rapids, a couple of hours west across the state from Chippewa. Lindsay recalled him saying that his father was a doctor and that his parents had a vacation house in Benton Harbor, which had made her crack up. She'd quickly explained her reason for laughing to a bemused Dave. Neither he nor his little sister smoked or took drugs so she was happy to see him. He was extremely good looking and seemed really smart – a combination that Lindsay didn't mind at all. She'd felt a sort of _'connection'_ when they'd chatted the other day so she wondered if this was _'fate'_ that they'd met yet again.

"Hi Dave. Welcome to Wisconsin," Lindsay said cheerily, motioning him in to the empty seat next her.

"How was the ride from Minnesota"? He asked, sitting in the creaky nylon and metal lawn chair.

"It was ok. We got a flat tire. How was yours"?

"It was cool. We just got here a little while ago. We stopped at the Circus World Museum for a bit. Heidi _loves_ the circus. She mostly wanted to get more postcards – which she'll never send, of course."

"If she never sends them why does she buy them"?

"Just for souvenirs. She has a nice scrapbook from our other Dead tours – and from _everywhere_ else she's ever been. Heidi loves her postcards."

"How many times have you done this, again"?

"Second time on our own. Third if you count the one our Uncle Richard took us on that our parents actually _know_ about."

"What do you mean? Your parents don't _know_ that you're doing this?" Lindsay asked. Suddenly her new friend got even more interesting.

"No, they'd be pretty mad. Smart kids aren't supposed to do stuff like this. At least not without an _Uncle_ _Richard_ to look after them. It is only for the freaks and druggies. I'll tell you what, Lindsay; I'd rather be here than at some _lame_ Academic Summit."

"_What?_ _Really?_ _The one at U of M"?_

"Yeah."

"_I was supposed to go to that too"!_

"Right on Lindsay. _I knew right away she was not like other girls, other girls."_

Lindsay broke in to a big smile, recognizing the sung lyric from her favorite Grateful Dead song then wondered if she had told him that when they spoke before.

"I could tell you were really smart the first time we met," he added.

"Thanks," she answered, always shy with compliments. "What sucks is that my parents are going to ground me for life when I get back. I'm surprised my Dad isn't out looking for me _himself_."

"You know Lindsay; your parents don't ever have to find out. Just make sure you get the letter before they see it."

"What letter? What do you mean? Isn't someone from the college going to call my house? I had to fill out that paper with my parent's phone number and address."

"No one is going to call, Lindsay. They expect a certain percentage of kids not to show up because they go on vacation or whatever. U of M will just mail a form letter to your house that says 'Sorry Lindsay couldn't attend. Good luck with your senior year.' All you have to do is make sure your parents never see the letter."

"How do you know this"?

"Well . . . first, my older brother Dan actually _went_ to the Academic Summit three years ago. He said it was so lame. They were herded from room to room for all of these braniac tests, focus groups, role-playing games, endless discussions, and such. Just a bunch of old, fat teachers picking your brain – as if you were some sort of science experiment or something. Then some of the kids who ranked the highest or showed 'leadership' potential were asked to stay for an extra week for even _more_ poking and prodding. My brother was one of them. He hated the whole thing. Especially because he lost three weeks of summer – doing _school_. Dan is smart but he'd rather play basketball and hang out with his friends. The next year, he was invited again, along with my older sister, but since my Dad had vacation, they skipped it. We got the 'sorry your braniac child couldn't come to the University of Michigan to get lobotomized' letter. That was it."

"_Darn,"_ Lindsay thought. _"I could have said an extra week instead of just an extra day and it only would have been . . . sort of a lie. Too late now."_

"So, this summer it was me and Heidi's turn."

"_All_ of you scored in the top one percent for the state of Michigan? Even your little sister"? Lindsay asked, impressed. She cringed, immediately regretting her last statement but she couldn't take it back before her fellow Summit-skipper replied.

"Uh . . . well, _all_ of us are kind of overachievers", Dave answered, slowly.

"I'm sorry, Dave. I know that sounded mean. I wasn't saying that your sister isn't smart. I –"

"That's ok. Heidi is probably the smartest one of us all, even if she doesn't act like it. She _is_ a bit weird and I think she likes that people think that."

Lindsay could've kicked herself. Dave _was_ smart, good looking _and_ was into more than just math and studying unlike many of the brains she knew. He didn't really live that far from her and he didn't smoke pot like Nick (even if Nick claimed to have quit – for Sara – which was another uncomfortable situation she knew she'd have to confront when she got back to town) and he was openly offering information that might save her ass when she got back to Michigan. Now she had foolishly insulted his little sister – even if it was accidental. God, she felt stupid. So much for _'connections'_.

"Anyway," Dave continued, "my brother told us to have an escape plan ready just in case we were _'invited'_ to the Academic Summit and this is it. Thank the tie-dyed gods that the Dead tour every year. My Uncle Richard is covering for us this time."

"That is so cool. I wish I had someone covering for me. I don't know what I'm going to do if – _when_ – my mom and dad find out."

"Just intercept that letter, Lindsay, and you'll be –"

"What letter? _Whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis"?_

The interrupting voice came from a barely five-foot tall, redheaded, freckled pixie who bounced up to Dave's side from out of nowhere.

"Hey, 'Di, you remember Lindsay? From Austin and the other night in St. Louis? She blew off the Academic Summit at U of M too"!

"Right on Lindsay! Best decision of your life from what my big bro Dan tells me. I just finished school. Don't want no more learnin'. Ain't goin' – ain't no way they kin _make_ me. No _bleedin'_ way, I say, I say."

Lindsay met Heidi's smile with one of her own. The girl was definitely a bit odd but Lindsay felt bad for accidentally insulting her.

"_Davie_," Heidi continued, "I was lookin' for ya just so I could formerly inform you, big brother number two, that I will be hanging out with Bug-eyed Joey, from Canton Ohio, home of the Football Hall of Fame, you know. I'll be the cool carrot-top having the most fun of anyone in the place, ya dig"?

"Where are you gonna be"? Dave asked, hands outspread.

"I'm about ten sites over that away," she said, pointing. "Big, blue van. Grateful Dead stuff painted all over it. Come find me when you are ready to split. Ok? Bye, Lindsay. _Thiiis is it – Thiiis is it. This is life – the one you get. So go on and have a ball." _And like a whirlwind, the eccentric little redhead Deadhead skipped off singing the theme song to "One Day at a Time."

"Well . . . _that_ was my little sister. Quite a character, huh"?

"Oh . . . I don't know. She's cool. Looks like she knows how to have fun – that's for sure"

"That she does, Lindsay. That she does."

"So, Dave," Lindsay began, bringing the subject back to trying to save her butt from the Harold Weir frying pan. "I just have to get that letter and I'll be ok?"

"Yup. Oh . . . one other thing I forgot. They'll probably mail a copy to your school, too."

"_Really_? Great. _I'm dead_," Lindsay said, alarmed and crestfallen at this latest piece of information that made her realize that getting away with this was going to be next to impossible.

Seeing her slump cheerlessly in the old lawn chair, Dave tried to offer comforting advice.

"Well, it would get sent to your principal's or guidance counselor's attention. Is he or she cool? Would they even care if you didn't go"?

"_Rosso?_ He is definitely _not_ cool. Even if he thinks he is. Shit. I'm never going to get away with this. No question he will call my parents no matter what lie I try to tell him._ And_ . . . this is going to be all _his_ _fault_ because he gave me that "American Beauty" record in the first place! I am so dead."

"What about your office ladies? Are you friendly with them? You could tell them you are expecting a letter with your scores and ranking from the Summit and you'd love to see it and show it to your folks before it gets filed away. Would they give it to you if you asked"?

"I - I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm never gonna pull this off," Lindsay replied, angrily kicking the heel of her shoe into the dirt.

"Well, that letter should arrive at your house by the end of this month – at least that's when ours did – and the one to the school will probably be in a big pile of mail waiting in office to start the year. You could go down there the first day of school and at least ask, right"?

Lindsay hung her head and mumbled.

"This is never going to work. I might as well join the Army with Nick. My Dad is going to kill me . . . dead. Dead. DEAD."

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**_under the table: Ok. So that is chapter i. I just had to relate some of the touring with the Grateful Dead experience since I spent so much time reading about it online. I wanted to introduce Dave and Heidi. They may play a role in later chapters. The events of this chapter definitely play a role in later parts of the story. Thanks to anyone who read this . . . I know it is long and I know I am long-winded when I write. I hope you enjoyed. New chapters in the shaping up process which I intend on publishing. All reviews read with a smile. Spread the word around the world about the Awesomeness that is: Freaks & Geeks! _**

**_DTaC._**


	2. Chapter 2: Courtin' the Coach

**_notes from the drawing table: _****_this is a bit of a revsion of the original. My doc expired so I had to upload all over again. _**

**_After Nicks failure at disco dancing, the only place I see for him is back on the basketball team. The idea for Bill trying out comes straight from the DVD commentaries. Either Paul or Judd. _**

**_I would place this story a couple of days after Lindsay has returned to town (which is the next chapter) Around the 3rd week of July 1981 . . . DTaC_**

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_Life at the Top_

2. Courtin' the Coach

He missed it – it killed him to admit and it surprised him how much, but he really missed playing organized basketball. The occasional pickup game or goofing around with Ken and Daniel at the playground was not the same. As he sat on the curb across from the park on this hot Michigan afternoon watching Coach Fredericks and Bill Haverchuk playing a game of_ 'HORSE'_, there was nothing he wanted to do more than go over and join in. Every time he'd passed by this summer, Nick had seen the Coach and the 'Kid' there practicing, shooting around or if there were enough guys, playing half or full court games. It seems like the Coach had taken this kid on as his own personal training project. From what he could tell, Haverchuk was getting pretty good, too. Nick had seen the gangly kid around the school and was pretty sure he was a friend of Lindsay's little brother, but he couldn't remember seeing him play basketball at McKinley. He'd watched a few freshman games last year and was sure he'd never seen Haverchuk on the team. Watching the tenacious underclassman running around the outdoor court awakened his old, competitive feelings and made him want to play so badly.

Since being kicked off the team after getting caught with a bag of marijuana in school right before his sophomore season, Nick figured he was finished as a McKinley high athlete. From then on, he'd poured his heart – and his money – into his monster drum kit, which he'd honestly believed could be his future, and into smoking pot. Two years later the drums were gone, sold by his hard-assed father and entering his last summer as a high school student, Nick realized the drums, the weed and the insane disco dancing faze were all just distractions and empty pursuits. He wasn't good at any of them. The only thing he was ever good at was playing basketball. He wanted to be part of that again, to be part of something that he could excel at and to be part of something where he was not looked at as a six-foot four-inch embarrassment. This was his last chance. No way he'd be playing basketball in college, if he even made it into one, and he certainly wouldn't be playing if he had to join Army. That was an unimaginable fate he hoped to avoid no matter the cost – even if it meant hanging out with his freak friends less and studying more. With Sara's help, he just knew he could maintain a 'C' average during his final year in high school. The Army was the _last_ place he wanted to end up and the 'C' grade point average was the key. If not, his father would be shipping him off to boot camp the day after graduation. Both of his brothers, Alex and Chris, who were two and three years older than Nick, were in the Air Force, just like their father. Both had _'partied'_ in high school but somehow it had never gotten in the way of maintaining good grades. Nick couldn't imagine why anyone would join the armed forces voluntarily. His brothers insisted it was a great way to get money for college. Money or not, military service was definitely _not_ for him.

Summoning his courage and trying to forget the look of anger and disappointment that burned in Coach Frederick's face on that afternoon nearly two years ago when they banished him, a promising sophomore, from the team, Nick decided today was the day. Although the Coach had barely spoken two words to him since then, Nick knew the only way he stood a chance of playing again was by convincing him that he was serious and more importantly, that he was clean. He hadn't smoked pot in nearly three months and had no intention of ever starting again.

Gulping down the rest of his Faygo orange, the lanky seventeen year old stood up and placed the empty soda can upright on the pavement. He carefully balanced on it via his right foot then leaned and tapped the side of the can lightly with his finger. It gave way and crushed down, accordion-like, in to a perfect, metal hockey puck. With a quick kick, he scored the can in the sewer opening across the street.

"Andopolis scores! Now let me go score my starting job back, damn it." He muttered defiantly.

Grabbing his basketball out of the open trunk of his car, the teen made his way purposefully across the street towards the basketball court and his only hope of salvation. As he approached the short row of bleachers, he tensed up, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. He thought about what his Father, a man of few words, had always told him and his brothers; _"A real man faces a difficult situation with courage and conviction. You look at a man eye-to-eye and say what you need to say." _Armed with his old man's intensity and steely determination . . . Nick chickened out and slunk down to the basket at the far end of the court.

For the next half-an-hour, he shot around, worked on his version of the 'sky-hook' and even dunked a few times. Occasionally he snuck a glance across the center court line to see if the Coach was paying him any attention. Nothing. His opportunity finally came when a loose basketball came bounding his way and he heard – "Andopolis . . . little help." With a lunge, he snatched the ball before it went bouncing out in to the grass. Instead of throwing it back, he casually dribbled down to almost the top of the key at the Coach's end. It was his favorite spot to shoot from on the court. Nick casually tossed up a twenty-foot shot – a shot that rose from his outstretched hand in a beautiful arc and headed for a perfect swish – a swish that Nick was sure guaranteed his gold-plated invitation to rejoin and save the terrible McKinley High Varsity basketball squad – a swish that would end his two year exile to the wasteland of 'Freakdom' and irrelevance –

~CLANK~

The ball hit off the front of the rim; ricocheted high then bounced twice off the cement – right in to the hands of Coach Fredericks.

"You're _fat_, Andopolis."

"What? No I'm not, Coach."

"Look at you. How much do you weigh, _chunky_"? The burly coach challenged, approaching.

"I don't know. Maybe one-ninety."

"Fat chance, tubby! You must be at least two-twenty."

"C'mon, Coach! No way." Nick replied with a disbelieving smile to what he imagined was lighthearted ribbing. _"Maybe this is what the coach has been waiting for? Me to ask him if I can play again."_

"Hey Haverchuk," the Coach said, looking at the leanly muscular fifteen-year old. "How tall are you and how much do you weigh"?

"I'm six-one, one-sixty, Coach."

"Go stand next to Andopolis."

Bill gave the Coach a dubious stare, not at all sure why he was involved in this discussion, as he walked over and stood next to the taller boy.

"Now, Andopolis – look at you and look at Haverchuk here. He's an athlete and you – well, you're just an out-of-shape, could-have-been." The look on Coach Frederick's face was sour and serious.

It stung. Nick didn't care about the comments about his weight – he knew he was in terrible shape compared to when he was on the team. Then he'd been a lean, athletic one hundred eighty-five pounds. The _'could-have-been'_ comment really hurt. He didn't remember Coach Fredericks being this mean. He'd always been hard on the basketball players and demanded they work hard, play hard, get in and stay in the best shape possible. Especially the big men like him. It seemed so unnecessary to out and out insult him like that.

"What are you doing down here anyway, Andopolis? Waiting for your pot-dealer to come by"? Now he just looked angry and mean.

That was it. Nick had had it. If Coach wanted a fight, he'd give it to him. He wanted back on the team but it was obvious that the Coach had other ideas so he figured he had nothing to lose.

"You know what _Coach_," Nick began; ready to unload nearly two years of frustration. "Your team _sucks! _What did you win – four games last year? You must be the worst coach in the league! _Your_ _team _can't play defense. They never keep their hands up when they play zone. They have _no_ discipline. They don't hustle. Did _anyone_ on your team even win one loose ball? Nobody can hit a jump shot – they can barely make a layup. And you know what else, _Coach? _Manning sucks! He's the worst big man in the league. He sucks in the low post. You might-as-well make this guy your starting center," he slapped Bill on the shoulder, "he's already better than Manning."

Coach Fredericks just stood there with a stunned expression. Bill Haverchuk kicked at his shoes, wishing he could walk away.

It was Nick who turned to walk away but not before defending his recent, pot-free lifestyle.

"If you don't want me on the team, that's fine. But – I'm _clean_, Coach. I haven't touched pot in months. More than three as a matter of fact, so don't accuse me if you don't know. I'm done with all of that."

Satisfied that he'd made his point, the sometimes-hotheaded Nick headed back to his end of the court with the intention of gathering up his basketball and heading home. At least, somewhere far away from this park and his unforgiving, ex-coach.

"Hey, Nick."

Nick, surprised to hear the Coach using his first name, whirled around eyes wild, prepared for another fight.

"Are you serious, Nick? Do you _really_ want to play"?

"Hell yes, Coach – I'd love to play again"! Nick answered, disarmed but instantly enthusiastic.

"Are you serious about being _done_ with the dope and all of that, too"?

"Yeah, I'm very serious about that, too. No more."

"I can order drug tests, Nick so don't –"

"Coach, you don't need to do that. I mean it. No more drugs."

Tossing the ball to Bill, Coach Fredericks approached his former player and put his muscular arm around the suddenly giddy Nick's shoulder.

"Nick – first of all – I can't promise you anything, I –"

"I know Co –"

"Andopolis! Shut your trap and let me talk. You had your say." The Coach said with a smile and a playful squeeze around the neck before letting go and facing the taller kid.

"I'm going to have to talk to Rosso. He'll probably have to talk to the superintendent and get the ok from him. What about your Father? Will he agree to let you play"?

"You know what Coach, I think he will. He used to love watching me play. I think it was the last time he was actually proud of me. I think it will make him happy to see me doing something . . . more 'establishment'."

"You're going to have to keep your grades at a 'C' or better. Do you think you can do that"?

"I _gotta_ do that or my Father's going to make me join the Army! No way I'm joining the Army. Sara is going to help me stay . . . _focused_. It's senior year anyway – my classes should be pretty easy."

"Don't be a _knucklehead_, Nick. You go to class. You do your homework and assignments – no matter what the classes are. I'm not going to go to bat for you then have you screw me over, ok? You'll have the entire first semester to prove yourself or it'll be no go on playing, alright"?

"Sure Coach – I promise." Nick said it with all the conviction and good intentions he could muster.

The smiling Coach stuck out his hand, which the happy Nick shook vigorously.

"I hope this is 'welcome back' Nick."

"Alright! Awesome! I can't wait. Can I have my old number back"?

"Slow down, Nick. First things first. You ask your old man permission and let me know. I want something in writing. Better yet, I want to meet with him in person so I know there are no shenanigans. _Got_ _it"?_

"Got it, Coach."

The two men released their grip, both looking forward to a brighter and more successful Varsity basketball season at McKinley High. Again, Nick was ready to walk away but the Coach stopped him with a question.

"And Nick . . . do you really think I'm the _worst_ coach in the league"?

"Oh . . . nah Coach. I just said that because I was so mad."

"What about all that other stuff? You noticed all that? You seem to know a lot about a team you claimed to not care about."

"Well, I did watch a lot of the games from the end, next to the bleachers. You couldn't see me from the bench. I went to some of the away games too. Those were . . . brutal."

Coach Fredericks shook his head. "Brutal is right. I just don't understand why those guys wouldn't hustle. Or keep their goddamned hands up in the zone no matter how many times I told them! I'm glad some of those _clowns_ graduated. A couple of the JV kids look really promising." Forgotten in the one-on-one conversation, Bill Haverchuk accepted the Coach's glance with a mix of pride and embarrassment. He hadn't even made the JV team or even decided if he was really going to try out. The Varsity was out of the question as far as the self-identified geek was concerned.

"You are right about something else too, Nick."

"What's that Coach"?

"Manning sucks."

"Coach. I was just kind of –"

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Nick. You meant it; you know it and you were right. And he's not even a good kid. He's a little asshole, that's what he is. If I had anyone else, he'd _never_ play unless was garbage time."

"Wow, Coach. Harsh."

"I'll tell you what, Nick. You make good on all your promises, you'll get all Manning's minutes and more. I promise you that. It's all up to you."

"Thanks, Coach. I'll talk to my Dad tonight and I promise I won't let you down."

"Great, Nick. You don't know how much I want this to all work out. I can't take another year like last year."

"Me neither, Coach. Me _neither_._"_

"So, who's hungry," the Coach asked, looking back and forth between his former and hopefully, his future star players and looking much more forward to the basketball season then he was twenty minutes ago.

"_I'm_ hungry," Bill, chimed in. "Let's get _pizza_," he added, hopefully.

"You in, Nick? It's on me."

"Nah, Coach, I can't. I'm supposed to meet Sara in a little while for lunch. She said she's making me something special. I really gotta get going. See you guys. Thanks, Coach."

Nick walked over to the sideline and scooped up his basketball, feeling buoyant and joyous. He wanted back on the team and Coach wanted him back on the team. This couldn't have worked out any better. He couldn't wait to tell Sara and he knew his father would agree. He just had to.

"Hey Nick."

The happy soon-to-be Varsity athlete looked up court to see the Coach looking his way again.

"You know I can't put you guys through any official drills or practices until the school year starts – but as of Friday night, I'm going to start opening the school gym for pickup games – informal scrimmages and such. I'm hoping that all my returning players and from the Varsity and the JV will come by and get in a little work before the semester starts. You think you can make it"?

"Sure. I can make it. What time"?

"Seven to Nine."

"You got it Coach. I'll be there."

"And, Nick – _I_ was right about one thing – you _are_ fat. You had_ better_ plan on losing twenty pounds by the time the season starts. I don't want you to look like you're carrying a piano up and down the court. Maybe pizza isn't the best thing for you right now, anyway. I hope Sally is making a nice salad for you."

Nick laughed and waved loosely as he started off the court.

"It's _Sara_, Coach. I'll see you Friday night at seven."

Coach Fredericks turned, snatched the ball out of Bill's hands and launched a two-handed set shot from where they were standing at half-court.

"Ugly shot Coach," Bills said as the ball arched gracefully towards the backboard. To his surprise, the hasty half-court shot hit nothing but net.

"Two points, Fredericks"! The elated Coach shouted. "That, young man, is how we used to do it back in the sixties"!

"Basketball must have been an ugly game back then, Coach." Bill replied with a beaming gap-toothed smile.

"Not as ugly as you, Haverchuk," the Coach jabbed in return. "Now go get that ball. Let's get some pizza. And a beer. I'm celebrating."

"Can I get a beer, too"?

"Hell no, you knucklehead. Your Mother would kill me. Let's get off this court and go eat. It's hot-as-hell out here."

* * *

**_under the table: If you like it (or hate it) or just have an opinion, please review. All reviews read with a smile. _**

**_By the waY: that little trick Nick pulled with the soda can used to be possible when cans were much stronger. Really. DTaC_**


	3. Chapter 3 Return to Reality

**_notes from the drawing table: welcome to chapter III. Sorry for the long delay. Thanks for coming back to read. This is a revised version of the one I posted the other day. A friend of mine looked at it and pointed out a few places it could be improved. I hope I made it better . . . _**

**_I just wanted to have a little fun with Lindsay and Ken Miller. This takes place a few days before chapter II with Nick. Please enjoy!_**

**_DTaC._**

* * *

Life at the Top

III. Return to Reality

Lindsay, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety, absentmindedly watched the familiar buildings of Chippewa pass as the old greyhound rolled through town. A trip that started out as an impossible-to-imagine whim of a teenaged girl, and then became exhilarating reality, now almost seemed like a dream. Her crazy two-week adventure on the magic bus with Kim and the others was over and the nightmare was about to begin. It was good to be home, but the onslaught of questions that she anticipated from her parents was not something she was looking forward to.

All the made up answers that she'd been mulling over since the bus pulled out of Milwaukee, to all the very real questions that her Mom and Dad would have, continued to assault her brain. The resulting headache made her wish that she'd never heard of the Academic Summit _or_ the Grateful Dead. She still wasn't confident that Dave was right and that her parents didn't already know what she'd done. _"I would have been better off if I'd spent the summer in my room reading," _she lamented_._ None of that mattered now. Regretful or not, she couldn't turn back the clock and undo what was done. Lindsay Weir would have to face the music and hope for the best.

Before she had to deal with any of that though, she had to get a ride home. Since she couldn't give her parents an exact time of arrival (and couldn't take the chance that they'd see that she was arriving on a bus scheduled from Milwaukee Wisconsin,) she'd managed to convince them to let her call when she got to the bus station.

Suitcase in hand, the weary teen wandered into the bus depot and headed for the pay phone. It was occupied and there looked to be two others waiting to use it, which was fine with her. Beyond tired from the thousands of miles of driving, the late nights, the lack of sleep, the concerts and the dancing, Lindsay was nervous that she wouldn't be sharp enough to make her well thought out bus ride answers sound believable. The longer she could delay the inevitable showdown and the endless barrage of questions, the better. What she wanted to do most was make up an excuse to get away from her Mother and Father as quickly as possible so she could go and sleep for twenty-four hours – which thankfully, would happen in her own bed.

"Hey, _Lindsay_ – how was _math_ camp"?

Lindsay instantly recogniized that familiar voice as she turned to see Ken Miller – the stocky and acerbic smart-aleck in her group of freak friends, unkempt hair and smirk on his scruffy face, leaning on the wall of the bus station. She noted that he even did that sarcastically.

"_Ken?_ It wasn't _math_ _camp_, you _dork_. What are you doing here, anyway"?

"Amy's bus _just_ left. She's going to visit her Grandmother in Cleveland. Do you want a ride or is Big Daddy Weir is coming to get you"?

"No, Ken – a ride would be _awesome_. The longer I can avoid talking to my parents about the stupid Academic Summit, the better. Can we go to Sackies first? I'm starving."

"Whatever the little _princess_ wants."

"Shut up Ken. I _hate_ when you call me that. You offered the ride. Geez. You are so stupid."

"Damn, Lindsay – so _touchy_. What did they do to you at that place? Let's just get the hell out of here. You know I _hate_ the bus station."

Ken surprised her by offering to carry her suitcase out to the car, which gave her the opportunity to strike back. "What did _they_ do to _me_? What the _hell_ did Amy do to you? You have _manners _now? Dating Amy is the _best_ _thing_ that ever happened to you."

Uncharacteristically, Ken Miller had no comeback and only managed a sheepish grin.

Thankfully, Ken didn't ask any more questions during the drive across town to the restaurant about her time (allegedly) spent at the University of Michigan.

After ordering, they took their burgers and fries (which surprisingly, Ken happily paid for) and sat in the front corner booth of the sparsely populated restaurant. Although she'd had her fill of fast food while on the road, Lindsay was too hungry to wait until she got home to eat and dug in to her fries with gusto. After her own bed, her Mother's home cooking was the thing she craved the most. Somehow, pork chops and pot roast didn't sound so boring after more than two weeks away from it.

Before Ken could ask her anything, she decided to go on the offensive and find out what she'd missed since she'd left.

"So Ken – how are Daniel and Kim"? _"Why not start out with another lie,"_ she thought, disgusted at deceiving her friend and for asking a question that she already knew the answer to.

"I don't really know," he replied, mouth full of double-decker burger. "You know Daniel is working in Flint so I haven't seen much of him. I have no idea about Kim – haven't seen her at all. Weren't you two _pen_ _pals_ while you were gone? She's your _best _friend", he added, snarkily.

"God Ken, can't you ever just be nice"?

What she really wanted to do was shout: _"I know exactly where Kim is! She's in Colorado, Ken. Partying and getting ready for another Grateful Dead show. You know, that band whose music you hate? I just got back from seeing them seven times and I had a blast! What do you think of that"?_

Right then, she decided that she would have to tell someone what she'd really done but Ken Miller was not going to be that person.

"_Riiiggghht,"_ he choked out. "Does it really matter? Aren't they broken up . . . _again_? I've been spending most of my time with Amy, anyway," he added with a smirk.

"_So_ – how's it going with you and Amy? She isn't _sick_ of you yet"? Lindsay asked with a smirk of her own.

"Hey, don't _jinx_ me Lindsay. I really like Amy and she really likes me."

"You don't have to worry about _me_ jinxing you, Ken. I'm sure you'll screw this up on your own. Amy's too good for you anyway," she added, acting disinterested as she tore open another packet of ketchup. "I'm surprised you guys have lasted this long."

"Jeezus _Lindz_ . . . when did _you_ turn so nasty"?

"C'mon Ken – I'm just _kidding,"_ Lindsay countered with a sly smile as she polished off another ketchup-drenched fry. "That's cool that you guys dig each other. I'm just bustin' on ya. I'm glad you two are happy."

Reluctantly, she decided to ask about Nick, secretly hoping that he and Sara were no longer a couple even though they seemed happy the last time she'd seen them.

"How about . . . _Nick"?_

"You mean . . . _is Nick still dating Sara"?_

"_Yeah_, well – I guess."

"Lindsay, you've only been gone two weeks. _Nothing_ in this town ever changes in two weeks. Really, nothing around here _ever_ changes."

Lindsay glanced around the restaurant at some familiar faces and wondered if any of them had ever been out of the state of Michigan. Chippewa was a pretty boring place, mostly. Nothing exciting ever happened. The Vice President coming to the school a few months back had to me the biggest event ever. Thinking back to her just concluded adventure made her smile, and despite the fact that it was based on a huge lie to her parents, oddly proud. _"Someday I'm going to get out of this town for good," _she thought as she watched the lazy, Sunday afternoon traffic outside.

"I guess you're right," she mumbled, distracted.

"He's _obsessed_, you know."

"_What"? _

The burly joker's statement got her full attention.

"Obsessed? With _Sara"?_ Lindsay asked, afraid of the answer. Nick did have the reputation for being overly _focused_ on things, whether it was his crazy, enormous drum kit or with smoking pot or with the girls he was dating. She'd been through his _smothering_ for the short time they'd been together.

"No. At least . . . I don't _think_ so. With the school _basketball_ team."

"Huh? But . . . we're not in school and Nick isn't _on_ the team. I thought he didn't care about playing anymore"?

"Well _now_ he does. He wants to play senior year and he won't stop talking about it. He's driving me _crazy_. We went to see Cheech & Chong's Nice Dreams the other night and he talked about it through the _whole_ movie. _During Cheech & Chong!_ That's sacrilege"!

"Well I guess it's cool if –"

"No, Lindsay – it's not _cool! _ He goes by the park almost every day because he knows Coach Fredericks will be there with your brother's weird, skinny friend practicing. He just sits in his car and watches from across the street. That's not cool – it's just _weird_. Even for _Nick."_

"Bill? Really? Sam did say something about him trying out for the team. Is he any good"?

"Who – _Nick"?_

"Bill."

"How am I supposed to know"? Ken replied, raising his voice. _"That's not the point!_ _Nick_ is the point. He keeps telling me he's going to ask Fredericks if he can play again. You have to do something before he makes a total _jackass_ of himself."

"_Me?_ Why me? _Why_ at all? If Nick wants to play, why should we try to stop him? The worst they can say is no."

"I'm telling you, Lindsay – this isn't going to end well."

Lindsay went back to eating her burger. Ken, who had already devoured all of his food, fell into moody silence.

"_So – Nick is obsessed with playing basketball again but maybe not with Sara"?_ She wasn't sure what how to take this news. When she and Nick were dating, all he could think about was smoking pot, playing drums and becoming a rock star. He didn't seem willing – or capable – of making any changes in his life and was more than happy to drag Lindsay in to his unmotivated world, too. Now, with Sara, he'd stopped smoking pot, supposedly for good, and wanted to play basketball for the school again? _"Why was he willing to do those things for her but not for me"?_ Lindsay knew Sara fairly well. She was extremely sweet and smart but how had _she_ convinced Nick to attempt positive changes in his life? (Sara _had_ to be the reason since Nick seemed incapable of motivating himself.) The thought crossed her mind that maybe Sara wasn't such a _'nice girl'_ after all. Maybe she was willing to do the one thing that all boys wanted – and that was go _'all the way.' _Sex would probably motivate Nick to do anything. _("Like that ridiculous disco dancing"!)_ Thinking about it made her uncomfortable in so many ways so she quickly banished the thought from her mind. _"No way - not Sara – she's not like that."_ It had to be something else. _"Maybe Nick actually loves Sara. Maybe he never really cared about me that much"? _ That possibility that pained her more_. _

Lindsay decided that playing basketball was probably the best thing for Nick. It would give him something positive to focus on and would probably keep him out of trouble. The more he played, the less time he had to loaf around and get into trouble with Daniel and Ken. That had to be a good thing.

"Do you think that they'll let him play again? You know – since he got kicked off for pot and all," she finally asked.

"I don't know, Lindsay. I'm just telling you he's obsessed and somehow it's going to end up _our_ problem."

"Well Ken –I think it's a good idea."

"I most definitely _disagree_. First – you have to keep your grades up to at least a 'C' to play sports. No way Nick can do that. He has a better chance of not smoking _weed_. Second – I think Nick's Father is _determined_ to make him join the Army just like his brothers no matter how he does in school. This basketball crap will backfire and we'll be stuck with _'sad-sack'_ Andopolis again until his Dad ships him off to the Army. Then Nick's gonna get killed in the jungles of Viet Nam and that would really _suck."_

"Oh-my-God Ken – what are you – _mental?_ Don't you know anything? Nick's brothers are in the Air Force and the Viet Nam War ended in 1975! Can't you ever say anything positive? None of this has even happened and you already have it turning into a disaster."

"The Army – the Air Force –Viet Nam – the Korean War. _The War on Drugs!_ It's all the same, Lindsay. Nick's gonna die in a jungle! You just wait."

"_The_ _Korean_ _War_, Ken? _The War on Drugs?_ You are _definitely_ mental! Anyway, I think it's awesome that Nick is trying to do . . . _better_. If playing basketball helps him keep his grades up so he doesn't have to join the Army – great. I bet his Father will be happy for him"

"I don't know, Lindz."

"I'm sure it will all work out for him. You guys should be happy for him, too," she added as she finished the last of her fries. "We can all go to the games and cheer him on. It will be fun."

"Yeah Lindsay, _right_. That's _exactly_ what I want to do – spend my winter in a cold, smelly gym full of jocks and their delusional parents. Gym class twice a week is more than enough for me. No thanks."

Lindsay shook her head and tuned Ken out but she had to admit that deep down she worried that he might be right. Not much had _'worked out'_ for her tall, somewhat spacey friend/ex-boyfriend since she'd begun to hang around with him and the Freaks. When things went bad for Nick, it was usually his own doing. Even after Mr. Weir handed him a stock boy job at his sporting goods store as a way to pay for drum lessons, Nick didn't follow through. _"Maybe this will be different."_

Lindsay's thoughts turned away from the conversation for a moment as she reached into her jacket pocket and felt the ticket stub that Dave had written his phone number on. She reminded herself to transfer it to her address book when she got home. Maybe she should completely forget about Nick, who seemed to be perpetually stuck in _'park'_ and concentrate on Dave, instead. He had sweetly come to see her off at the bus station in Milwaukee and the memory of their tight hug made her giddy. They definitely shared a _'connection'_ that a small, unintentional insult of his little sister couldn't change. Unlike Nick, Dave seemed to have it all together. The only problem was that he lived more than two hours across the state and she just couldn't ignore the fact that she still had feelings for Nick. _"Nick is such a great guy when he isn't stoned."_ One thing she knew for sure, at some point she was going to end up having an uncomfortable conversation with Nick about their relationship. Life seemed so much simpler before she aligned herself with the Freaks. Millie – the mathletes – telling the truth to her parents – the _good old days._

A thunderous burp exploded from across the table.

"_Grooossssss!_ Ken, you are _so_ _disgusting_"!

"Why I believe I have room for desert now. Shall we stop for ice cream on the way to the Weir Manor, _milady_"?

Lindsay hated herself for laughing at Ken's grossness and his bad, but comical English accent, but she couldn't help herself.

"Why do I even talk to you? You are so _dumb_." Lindsay added, fighting back more laughter as Ken continued to beam at her, like the cat that ate the canary.

The ride to Lindsay's house was much too short for her liking and her anxiety over the unavoidable encounter with her parents returned. Ken turned the motor off and got out to unlock the trunk and hand Lindsay her suitcase.

"Ok, princess, here you go. That will be $27.50."

"Hah, hah, funny, Ken. _Stop_ calling me _princess," _she grimaced before punching him lightly in his chunky shoulder.

"Thanks for the ride. Wish me luck," she added before she turned to head up the driveway.

"Good luck . . . _princess_. I hope the King and Queen don't give you the _guillotine_ for getting sent to _math_ _camp," _he replied, while waving a mocking goodbye.

"You have no idea, Ken," she said, turning back. "They can be pretty overwhelming at times. They're going to have a thousand questions. I'm just too tired to deal with it, that's all."

"Lucky _you_. Sometimes I wish my parents would actually _talk_ to me. I have more meaningful conversations with the housekeeper and the gardener than I do with them. Consider yourself lucky, Lindsay. At least your parents actually care."

Lindsay looked at her stocky, unshaven, curly-haired friend and his glum expression and felt bad for him. They all knew that The Miller's had money and that Ken was mostly raised by a nanny and that he wasn't close with his parents. Kim's Father wasn't in the picture; Mrs. Kelly was kind of crazy and had a boyfriend who was clearly a psycho. Daniel's Dad was very sick, which she knew weighed heavily on him and the entire Desario family. Nick's family was normal but his Father was extremely stern and hard. All of her friends seemed to have worse issues with their parents than she did. _"Maybe I am the lucky one_."

"Yeah, I guess. So, what are you going to do now that Amy is gone for a while"?

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. A new kid moved into old man Kendall's place down the street from me right before school ended. He's going to be a senior, too. He has this huge record collection – rock, punk, metal, blues – you name it. They converted that big barn into a bedroom for him. We can _crank_ the stereo – at least – until his folks get home. His Old Man is an ex-Marine and may be worse than Nick's Dad. We are going to _rock_ _out!_ Wait until you hear him talk – it's _hilarious_."

"Ok, cool Ken – I better get in the house. _My_ Dad is going to come looking for me with the cops if I don't show my face soon. Thanks for the ride."

Lindsay didn't know what possessed her but she leaned over and gave Ken an awkward hug, which he barely responded to other than with a _'what-the-hell'_ expression.

"Alright. Ok . . . _Lindsay," _Ken stuttered, pulling away. "Good luck with Harold and Jean. I hope they aren't too much of a pain-in-the-ass."

Lindsay watched Ken's car disappear down the street and wished she were going with him. Anywhere but inside to face her Mother and Father. She considered going over to say hi to Millie first when the thought crossed her mind that Millie would have a million questions too and it would be much more difficult to fool her brainy friend than it would be to fool her parents. Millie had this weird sixth sense that alerted her when Lindsay wasn't telling her the whole truth. Maybe that's what a lifelong friendship created.

The butterflies returned as she started up the driveway. "_Maybe Dave's right and they don't know anything. Maybe this won't be so bad_." Before she got halfway, the front door burst open and her Mother charged out yelling excitedly: _**"Harold, our little girl is home"!**_

The entire neighborhood must have heard.

"_Oh-my-God, here we go,"_ Lindsay thought, horrified.

* * *

**_under the table: Thanks for reading. Like it or hate it or just have an opinion . . . all reviews read with a smile. Thanks to my phantom editor for the notes. DTaC._**


	4. Chapter 4: The Music Never Stops

**_notes from the drawing table: welcome to chapter 4. A short chapter that brings Kim back to Michigan and to the story. This takes place a week or so after Linday's return. (and it's a chance to send Victor and Laurie off to their next pursuits)._**

**_Published today on Busy Phillips (and Linda Cardellini's) birthdays. Happy birthday Ladies! Maybe I should watch the shows they are on. Busy is pretty comical in Cougartown from the few episodes I saw during the first season. _**

**_Please read and enjoy. DTaC._**

* * *

Life at the Top

4. The Music Never Stops

"Aiiiiieeeeegggggggggggghhhhhh! No. _No_. _NOOOOOO"!_

"Oh man Victor – she's freaking out again."

"Hey – Kim, are you ok? We're almost to the state line. We'll be home in just a few more hours."

"That's' the problem . . . I don't wanna _be_ home! Home _SUCKS"!_

"It'll be ok Kim – just stay calm," the sweet and ever-smiling Laurie said, hoping to mellow Kim out before she got started on another one of her rants.

"Yeah, man – everything's gonna be cool," Victor, perpetually laid-back and positive, added.

"You have _no_ _idea_ how _insane_ my life is."

"It can't be that bad." Laurie tried to reassure, then continued: "Anyway . . . we just had a great trip . . . a _great_ tour. Now that we're back, you have so much to look forward to."

"Yeah – that's easy for you to say. You guys graduated. You get to leave this shitty place. I have to go back to that _pit_ for another year. It sucks. _Sucks_. _SUCKS"!_

"C'mon, Kim. You're going to be a senior. It's the best year ever. Me and Victor had so much fun last year. You're going to be the Kings and Queens of the school."

"Whatever. Then what? I don't get to move to California and go to _Berkeley_ like you two. I'm gonna have to get a shitty job, in _shitty_ Chippewa and live a _shitty_ life until I die."

Victor sighed and looked to Laurie who returned his gaze with an expression that was part pity and part exasperation. They'd put up with a lot of this from Kim Kelly since they'd left Colorado almost three days ago. While she had been excited, wide-eyed and fun on the way out, she had turned into an irritable, sullen, anxiety-ridden ball of nerves on the way back. They almost regretted no letting her jump into that van after the last Denver show and ride to Los Angeles with those California Dead heads. Talking her out of it was no easy task, but they knew it was for the best. Kim was no more than an overgrown child at times, not wise-beyond-her years like she naively believed. Although it was _Lindsay_ who talked Kim into joining them, the two experienced road-trippers felt personally responsible for her safe return since _they'd_ talked Lindsay in to coming in the first place.

As the question mark decorated, white and tan microbus sped up highway 94 towards the Michigan border, Kim, blonde hair blowing in her face from the open window, cheerlessly watched the terrain pass by.

"Is it always like this"? She finally asked, forlornly.

Victor glanced in the rear-view mirror and caught his passenger's expectant eyes, not sure what answer she was hoping for.

"What do you mean, honey," Laurie began, like a mother speaking to a child.

"You know – does it always end like this? Do you always feel . . . this . . . _crappy_ . . . when it's over? It's so depressing."

"Well . . . it's always a bit of a _bummer_ when we leave after the last show but we've just learned to deal with it. Victor and I just try to relive the whole thing over again in our heads for a few days. We get stoned, talk about our favorite moments and songs from each show; laugh about all the fun times we had and talk about all the cool people we met. Then we start looking forward to the _next_ Dead tour."

"You guys make everything sound so easy . . . so _cool_," Kim said, while seemingly trying to absorb and visualize what Laurie had just told her.

"I can kinda still hear the music in my head," Kim added after a few moments of thought, sounding content for the moment.

"You just hold on to that, hon," Laurie soothed, "that's the best part. _The music never stops._ Right, baby"?

"Right, Laurie-bird," Victor agreed, taking one hand off the wheel to grasp his wispy girlfriend's outstretched hand.

The next few miles passed in silence except for the eight-track playing The Moody Blues "Days of Future Passed" lowly.

"Holy shit – _the SIGN"! _

"What"?

"The Sign! We _forgot _to do it when we left. Damn! We have to _moon_ the Welcome to Michigan sign! It's a tradition. We do it every time we leave the state."

"Really"? The pigtailed Laurie asked, skeptically.

"Yeah, _really_," Kim teasingly countered.

"Well . . . it should be just up ahead," Victor informed from the driver's seat. "We're almost there."

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, Laur," Kim cajoled, shaking the reluctant Laurie's arm. "Ya gotta do it with me! Who knows when the next time I'll get to leave this crappy state"?

"There it is"! Victor called out, uncharacteristically excited.

"Slow down, slow down, slow down," Kim screeched back.

The two girls, Laurie fighting back giggles, positioned themselves knees up on the seats, dropped their blue jeans and aimed their bare asses out the windows at the blue and white welcome sign. Kim whooped and hollered, then out of the corner of her eye caught sight of some of camera-toting tourists heading back to their car, which was pulled off the highway just ahead of the welcome sign. Kim quickly spun and jabbed her head out the open passenger side window and screamed as loud as her lungs could muster as Victor stomped on the gas and the VW sped on down the highway.

"Look Mommy – a _BUTT"!_ Thirteen year old Joey McCintyre pointed out, delighted. The rest of the McCintyre family looked up just in time to see the oddly painted, VW Microbus passing slowly and a female face squeeze out of the window next to the offending '_moon'_, and scream: "WELCOME _TO MICHIGAN_, _MO T H e r f - -"_

The rest of the exclamation was lost as the putt-y VW picked up speed and zoomed away.

* * *

**_under the table: Hah! That was quick and fun for me. I can see Kim, Daniel, Ken and Nick getting endless laughs 'mooning' on unplanned roadtrips to nearby states/Canada. I'm sure kids still "shoot the moon" for easy laughs. (oh those High School bus rides . . . memories) So...let me know what you think. Review good or bad. (but no guarantee I won't "moon" the computer screen !) Thanks for reading. DTaC._**


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